


Where Worlds Collide and Days Are Dark

by Evondahlkilledthelocals



Series: The Bond Verse [4]
Category: Inception (2010), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, The Bond Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evondahlkilledthelocals/pseuds/Evondahlkilledthelocals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second time Eames met Bond did not go any better than when he was thrown off the top of Ben, really, if Eames had any say in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Worlds Collide and Days Are Dark

It was four years after their first encounter, but the second time Eames meets James Bond was on Christmas Eve in the last place Eames could ever expect. The second time Eames met Bond did not go any better than when he was thrown off the top of Ben, really, if Eames had any say in it.

* * *

Eames was out shopping for a last minute gift for Christmas for Arthur, since they had taken care of Quinn’s gift already. Quinn was nine already and they had successfully established that Quinn was, in fact, a genius. He was entering into halfway through his first year of high school and while Eames tried to shelter him from the world of high school, Arthur was trying to at least make sure he was integrated. Quinn was alone, but never lonely. He was always working on building things and designing the next machine for his experiments, distracting him from going out to play. The only child-like thing that Eames found Quinn enjoyed was going to the zoo and getting ice cream, but only if both parents went.

Eames was looking at a pocket watch in an antiquity shop that, according to paperwork and photographs provided by the crown, once belonged to one Winston Churchill when it happened. He sensed someone walk up next to him and froze, tensing up as he turned the watch over in his hands with a low hum, “Can I help you mate?”

“Quite possibly. I’m looking for one Tommy Conlon,” Eames stopped his movements entirely as the name rolled out in a familiar accent and voice. He caught the shopkeeper’s eye, nodding as he held the watch up. Quietly, knowing that the man was still standing behind him, Eames paid for the watch and had it boxed. It took him five minutes to get it all sorted out and the man behind him waited patiently, much to Eames’ displeasure. Once he had thanked the shop keep, Eames exited the building without turning to face the man that was following him. Eames tucked the small box into his one pocket that snapped shut, patting it to make sure it stayed safe. He led the man on a path through alleyways and backstreets until he found the fire escape he had been looking for.

Without a word, Eames grabbed onto the ladder and took off. He scaled up the fire escape, hopping up the steps and skipping enough to consider it dangerous. Glancing over his shoulder for the first time, Eames groaned at the sight of the same agent from before. He managed to get onto the rooftop and took off in a run across it, stopping at the edge before looking over his shoulder again. The agent walked casually, hands in his pockets as he did, “It’s been quite a few years, hasn’t it Mister Eames?”

“What do you want Bond?” Eames glared, one hand resting on the back of his waistband where his glock was hidden. He watched Bond’s careful movements across the rooftop until they were a mere two feet apart, both keeping one hand on or near a weapon, “I told you, I will not let you kill me and scar my child.”

“Ahhh, little Quinn yes. I hear he is in high school already? At nine, impressive!” Bond stated, almost in a mocking tone. Eames scoffed, watching Bond’s hand hovering over his own weapon, “My son is none of your business, Agent.”

“Oh I do believe we have got past the name Agent, haven’t we? You know it’s James.”

“I can’t call someone out to kill me by their name, it’s not my style,” Eames rolled his eyes, motioning to James with his free hand, “You’re here for that, I presume?”

“Technically, it’s the lovely Kenyan agent on the rooftop across from us with the Sniper that is to do that,” James smirked as Eames felt his body tensing again, glancing around for any sign of a sniper on the rooftops. He focused on James again, staring him down with a frown, “I’m here to ensure you stay alive, actually. We want you alive for questioning, not dead.”

“Questioning about what, Mister Bond?”

“Dream work.”

“I left it,” Eames shrugged, looking around once more to try to get the sniper in sight. He contemplated calling Arthur, but decided against it in fear of anyone else figuring out where they lived, “Arthur left it too. We’ve been done for ten years on my part and four on Arthur's, what do they want with us? Why can’t they find someone else to ask?”

“Because, William, despite what others may say it is still a well known fact that you two are the best forger and point man. No matter how far into retirement you are,” James paused, his gaze breaking from Eames’ to glance over Eames’ shoulder. Eames figured that was where the sniper was, as Bond took a few steps closer, sidestepping to force Eames to turn his back to the right. Eames glanced over to where his back once was, spotting the sniper with ease. He returned his gaze to James, sighing as he gripped his glock, “So, what then? You need us on a job? Because I gotta tell ya mate, it ain’t going to happen.”

“On the contrary, we need advice on forging and someone to design a new interface for our computer systems.”

“I haven’t forged in four years, I don’t know if I could.”

“We’ll come for you in another year then. In fact, will come to you a year exactly from today, Mister Eames. Make sure you are practiced by then, as the MI6 won’t take no for an answer. Now I’m going to take care of this sniper and you are going to run. Take the black car waiting at the curb below, they will return you to your own car near that shop,” James paused, smirking as he turned to face the sniper instead of Eames, “Tell Arthur hello for us, won’t you?”

* * *

Eames entered into his home quietly, trying to sneak past Quinn and Arthur as he did. Quinn spotted him first, nodding to his Father as Eames signaled for him to be quiet. He snuck past the kitchen, where Arthur was humming to himself and brewing a fresh pot of coffee. Eames entered into their bedroom as quietly as he could, grabbing for the present bags that had littered the desk for the month in the corner of the room. He hastily wrapped Arthur’s gift in one, stuffing the tissue into it carelessly. The clearing of a throat as he put the last piece of tissue in made him freeze, turning slowly to face Arthur. Arthur smiled at him from the doorway, leaning into the frame casually with his arms crossed over his chest.

Eames noted and loved that ever since they had begun their retirement, Arthur had become more at ease with himself. As he leaned in the doorway that evening, a small hint of stubble was beginning to show on his usually clean-shaven face. Eames had grown out a long-overdue beard, which he was rather fond of and Arthur hated. Smiling at Arthur, Eames opened his arms to his husband. Arthur was across the room in seconds, wrapping his arms tightly around Eames’ waist. He grasped the glock, pulling it from Eames’ waistband and setting it on the table behind them with a low hum. Eames laughed, reaching a hand up to cup at Arthur’s cheek, “MI6 approached me again.”

Arthur tensed for a moment, barely noticeable to anyone but Eames really, before relaxing again as Eames ran his hand down Arthur’s neck and to his sides to grip at Arthur’s hips possessively. Arthur held on tighter, leaning back to look up into Eames’ eyes, “To kill you again?”

“No, not this time. That was someone else that was after me from Kenya,” Eames sighed, shaking his head before he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Arthur’s, “They want me to forge for them.”

“As in…under the PASIV?”

“Yeah,” Eames frowned, leaning in to press a short and gentle kiss against Arthur’s lips before speaking again, “I told them not now as I was out of practice but they said I have one year from today to get in practice again before I would be required to help them. S’the MI6, I can’t refuse them…”

“I know. I know just…why now? Why not before when we were active?”

“Said we’re still the best is why,” Eames shrugged, letting another small groan-like sound escape as he held Arthur as close as he could, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you and Quinn love…”

“We can’t move. Not with how Quinn is.”

“I know,” Eames laughed, shaking his head as he stepped back from Arthur’s hold. He ran a hand over his face, frowning as he let them drop to his sides, “I guess I’ll need to call Yusef and start practicing, yeah?”

“Eames…”

“Last job. I wouldn’t be if it wasn’t the bloody MI6 after me.”

“I know just…be careful.”

“Lets just go get the stuff ready for Christmas Eve yeah?” Eames laughed, taking Arthur’s hand into his own, “At least our sprog still acts like a kid about Santa and such, yeah pet? We have some cookies to prepare.”

Arthur agreed with a small squeeze to Eames’ hand and though the worry of what was to come hung over them, Eames figured they could at least enjoy their Christmas first.


End file.
